


A Week in the Country

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Erotic suggestion, M/M, References to Jane Austen, Steamships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are arrived.  The Cobb!  Show me this instant the steps from which Louisa Musgrove fell!</p><p>You have succeeded in surprising me, my dove.  I would not <i>ever</i> have taken you for a devotee of Miss Austen and so a reward is in order.  Tonight, chick, you shall choose your reward, and I shall give it to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Week in the Country

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings and Tags are going to change, as the story unfolds.
> 
> You didn't expect anything else, surely?

"It's blessed bracin' up here, Professor. I never thought the Channel'd be quite so bloody cold, not this time of year, anyway."

Moriarty pulls his scarf tighter around his neck and his hat further down over his ears. "It is colder than one would expect, but I assume that that has something to do with today's wind, and the spray from the sea. The forecast is, I understand, for fairer weather."

Taking his fob watch from his pocket, the Professor rubs away the spray which quickly gathers on its face before peering at it and frowning.

"Another hour before we reach Lyme. I shall return below for a fortifying brandy. Will you join me, Sebastian?"

Moran takes another drag of his cigarette. "I'll be down presently, Sir, once I've finished this. Assumin' I manage to finish it, that is, without gettin' damp enough to send up smoke signals, in this bloody spray."

The Professor smiles and walks off along the deck to the door to the cabins below.

~O~

The steamer pulls up to the Cobb delayed, rather surprisingly, only five or so minutes by the inclement weather. Sebastian's spirits lift to note that the skies are clearing, and bursts of bright sunshine filter through the clouds ever more frequently. 

The Professor exchanges a few parting pleasantries and a gratuity with the captain as Sebastian arranges for their luggage to be taken up to town, and delivered to the rooms they have secured for the week. A week away from the noise and bustle and general _fug_ of the city is exactly what both of them need, thoroughly fed up with a winter which seems to have gone on far too long, and a slow recovery from a particularly virulent strain of head cold.

As their trip has approached, the Professor has become increasingly animated about the local geology and the fossils they may discover, and his purchases in preparation, of geological hammers and magnifying glasses and sample boxes and packing papers, have swelled the amount of luggage accompanying them quite considerably. 

Sebastian has been content to sit back and listen to Moriarty enthuse, he himself looking forward to long, bracing walks on the beach and the Undercliff, and further afield along the coast. As a man possessed of a natural vigour and energy, he finds London quite stifling at times, despite the interesting and, at times, dangerous work he undertakes for the Professor. Fresh air and plenty of exercise is a somewhat rare treat and already, as he steps down from the steamer, he feels a buzz of excitement and adventure spark through him.

As he takes Moriarty's arm and helps him down on to the gangway, the warmth of his lover's body through the material of his greatcoat provokes another type of spark, one of desire and anticipation for what may come later, when they are safely settled in to their lodgings that evening. This, coupled with the improvement in the weather, the general feeling of holiday and the temporary shrugging off of the cares and responsibilities of everyday life, induces in Sebastian a feeling of almost schoolboyish mischief, and he affects an air of melodrama, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead. 

"We are arrived. The Cobb! Show me this instant the steps from which Louisa Musgrove fell!"

The Professor's look of utter bafflement, swiftly followed by one of mild concern at his chief of staff's sudden playacting, sends Sebastian into a series of most unmanly giggles.

"Moran! What on earth are you talking about? Who is Louisa Musgrove?"

The other disembarking passengers' curious glances and the fact that the Professor's eyebrows have nearly vanished under the brim of his hat only serve to make Sebastian laugh more.

"So s-sorry, Sir. It's - it's from the b-book, Sir. Persuasion. You know, Jane A-Austen. The girl who knocked herself out, jumpin' down the stairs too q-quick."

"Have you taken leave of your senses, Moran? _Jane Austen?_ Not exactly the sort of fare I'd have imagined you enjoying?"

Hiccuping slightly in the aftermath of his mirth, Sebastian manages to marshal his thoughts and his voice.

"Yes, Sir. Kitty introduced me to her. Not what I'd ever have chosen myself to read, but once I was readin', well, the stories are rather grippin'."

"I see. So shall we take a walk and see if we cannot ascertain the location of these _steps_."

Then, leaning in so that he can speak quietly and sensually, he murmurs.

"You have succeeded in surprising me, my dove. I would not _ever_ have taken you for a devotee of Miss Austen and so a reward is in order. Tonight, chick, you shall choose your reward, and I shall give it to you."

Leaving a gaping, near panting Moran staring dumbly after him, the Professor walks on.

"Assuming that the steps are still here? As unfamiliar as I am with Miss Austen's _œuvre_ , I am aware that she was writing some 70 or 80 years ago. Much may have changed in the interim. Come, Sebastian. Let us promenade."


End file.
